The Mage and the Mystery: An Arcanum Account
by gammerita
Summary: Following the plot of Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magicka Obscura, the disillusioned daughter of a shady businessman jumps on an opportunity to pursue her magical aspirations. Diverted by a perfect collision of circumstances, the would-be mage winds up gathering the usual band of misfits in a long-shot attempt to protect everything they value from a threat they'd never imagined.
1. Prologue

THE MAGE AND THE MYSTERY: AN ARCANUM ACCOUNT

Prologue

In a quiet and respectable hamlet somewhere north of Caladon, the very well-connected and slightly intoxicated Chester Blakesley watched, with more than a little interest, as two young ladies made a fashionably late entrance through a side door to the evening's soiree.

The older of the two discreetly adjusted and smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, then leaned toward the younger. "You see, Rosie? Here in plenty of time. Nothing to worry about now but to charm and flatter". She added after a furtive glance around the room, "Do remind me why we are charming and flattering these individuals?"

"Because these are _important people_, Ellie". The younger lady winked, grinning behind freckles and wisps of red hair. "Also, Mother threatened our heads on a dining plate for any indiscretions. Yours in particular".

"Aha, yes. I recall vividly now. A solid reason, I feel".

The two relaxed for a moment until Ellen, the older of the girls, caught sight of Blakesley ambling toward them with a disconcerting smirk and a sloshing wineglass. "Oh, blast it. Rosalind, eyes forward, keep walking".  
Rosalind jerked her head around. "What is-oh no..."

"Just walk. We are calm, we are gentlewomanly, and we are completely oblivious to our surroundings, aren't we?" Ellen made a quick and subtle gesture, and the slightest of commotions arose behind them. Rosalind peered over her shoulder as Blakesley lavished apologies on no one in particular-though his attention did settle well below eye level on a matronly guest-and dabbed at the former contents of his glass now staining the front of his jacket.

"Ellie," she chided playfully, "I don't think that's what it's meant to be used for".  
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean". Ellen's eyebrow twisted just so. "It does sound like our lecherous friend is shaping up for a dismal evening, doesn't it?"

"Ellen Corville," Rosalind teased, "you are not planning to further torment the fellow, are you?"

"Torment? Planning? Surely not. But if that-I'm loath to say _gentleman_-decides once more to leer at _my little sister_ the way he does, I can't be held responsible for-"

"For _what_, Miss Ellen?"

The girls stopped and craned their necks. A lady in bold green ruffles and tight black curls stood behind them, eyebrow raised, hands on hips.

"Beatrice!" Ellen clapped. "By all that's sacred and upright, it's good to see you. How have you been? Where have you been? We'd all but sent for a search party".

"Now, now, no need for theatrics". Beatrice embraced both the girls. "Life's been utterly and absolutely frenetic, but you know very well I'd not forget my favorite cousins Now what sort of wrath do I hear you threatening, Miss Ellen? What unlucky sot has finally got your hackles up?".

"Let us say youth, femininity, and a tidy inheritance in concert don't always attract the sort of attention one hopes". Ellen nodded to the fellow in question, who had since turned his sights elsewhere. "Rarely if ever, by all appearances".

"Mister Blakesley's one of Father's investors," Rosalind explained. "For some years, in fact. Ellie's managed to convince him she's-diseased in the head, or some such, either way he's left her alone of late-but now I've got more of his attentions than I ever wanted. Mercifully I'll be gone to the University in a few months' time, though I don't exactly think he's absorbed that".

"First of all, _you_,"-Beatrice pointed to Ellen-"are incorrigible. And _you_,"-she turned back to Rosalind-"neglected to inform me you'd been accepted! And here I'd been saying from the very first time she sat at the piano-do you remember that?-I'd said my dear young cousin had a marvelous talent if she'd only pursue it. Well done indeed, Miss Rosalind!" She now had the redheaded girl by the shoulders, giving her a small shake.

"Th-thank you, Bea". Exciting as the prospect was, Rosalind found the show of enthusiasm rather sudden.  
Ellen was equally bemused. "I'd ask your cousin to look after you while you're in Caladon, Rosie, but I'm not sure of how you'd emerge from the ordeal".

"Oh, have your laughs". Beatrice gently released the younger lady. "In all seriousness, dears, be assured I will do just that. Family ought to help wherever it can, I should say".

"On that note, Beatrice…" Rosalind looked around for something she might have missed. "Oughtn't you be accompanied? Where is Darias tonight?".

She might well have asked for a dramatic reading. "That," Beatrice said, her gestures ever more animated, "is exactly the reason I happened by. Darias, I'm afraid, fell ill recently-poor dear could barely lift a finger for two days-and on that count I wanted to ask something of your sister".

Ellen exchanged glances with Rosalind. "Well...do bear in mind I'm rather an amateur at this, but if he's not averse to healing by magical means, I can certainly tr-"

"Oh, no no no". Beatrice waved her hands. "No, I don't mean that. My husband's on the mend already. Bit of time to recover, he'll be right as rain. No, I rather had something else in-do you still have Lan'rin's notes?"

The question caught Ellen off-guard. The elf Lan'rin had been a friend to the girls as children, and had enchanted the eldest in particular with her gathered accounts of ancient mysteries and magic. She had left the small town without explanation-and with it and any progress on her longtime research-and had entrusted her findings to Ellen in hopes that the young aspiring mage-researcher might see them completed.

Day-to-day reality had imposed itself upon those hopes, but hadn't entirely stamped them out.

"I might, perhaps...".

Rosalind added in a stage whisper, "She's practically committed them to memory".

"Ahem. Not all of them. In any case, I don't see-".

"Because I haven't explained yet, of course. You see, Darias and I had our hearts set on an excursion across the continent starting a week today. Terrible timing, this malady, and naturally both our spirits are awfully trod down, but it occurred to me there's no sense letting those arrangements go to waste even so. And then I recalled! You," she extended her arm toward a wary Ellen, "had gone on about a professor in Tarant whom you surmised had an interest in your elf friend's-and by association, your-research. Well, of course it only made good sense-"  
"Beatrice," Ellen stopped her, "truly I'm...moved, but this isn't just a jaunt over the pond…"

"No," Beatrice grinned, leaning in close and producing a folded paper from her handbag. "Over the _mountains_".  
"Luxury passenger...airship?" Rosalind read.

"And its first flight, at that". Beatrice handed the item-a ticket, as it were-to Ellen, who took it with some hesitation. She continued, "Supposed to be breathtaking, and of course much more expedient than all of that drifting around the coast. I should be hopping with envy, but since our plans are clearly untenable now, I'd not dream of denying you this chance".

Ellen blinked. The offer took a moment to coalesce in her mind. "Beatrice, I can't-"

"Yes, yes, of course, you'll pay me back every penny. I've no doubt. But I shall be insulted, _disgraced_ even, should you be silly enough to refuse a perfect opportunity that I know you've been clamoring for".

Rosalind touched her on the arm. "You have wanted this for a long time, Ellie…".

Ellen's eyes drifted between her sister and her cousin. She spoke slowly and carefully. "If I didn't know better, I'd suspect you two as co-conspirators. In point of fact, I'm not sure I _do_ know better".

"The way I see it," Beatrice said, her demeanor easing somewhat, "once your sister is gone for the big city, you can either take that little paper in your hand and follow that stubborn ambition of yours...or else you can stay to provide entertainment for the likes of _that_".

Both sisters turned their heads in the indicated direction as Blakesley, safely contained on the opposite side of the ballroom, stumbled toward a very comely and very married young woman. Ellen winced.  
And then ever-so-subtly grinned.

* * *

At the base of the walkway, the craft looming just ahead like a huge creature of incomprehensible origin, Ellen stood transfixed as the din of the city faded to a low murmur.

Smatterings of conversation flitted in and out of her ears: eager couples, young men and women anxious to start a new life in the center of modernity, wealthy businessmen looking to pursue their next venture or simply a lively retirement, and quieter sorts who whispered among one another and whose motives for travel remained their own.  
Here humans mingled with the other civilized races in a lively concordance. The technologists and the magickers, though never the closest of allies, maintained their mutually cautious but respectful appearances.

Ellen steadied her nerves and picked up her bags as the ticket-taker ushered the line of passengers ahead. Up until now it had been all mental rehearsals of how to best approach academia with her offering (and why did that suddenly seem a far more daunting task?). Those thoughts tapered off as she approached the zeppelin, replaced by a wordless awe.

She took a brief look back at the city before boarding. Some curious gawkers stared back from below the platform; most of the city-dwellers kept their heads about their own business, the airship another landmark in a scene saturated with marvels. An inkling reached the young researcher hopeful that if the Tarantian academics agreed to support her continuing study, she'd likely not see this corner of land again for-how long? The thought, and the uncertainty that accompanied it, hadn't troubled her before. On reflection, none of this had been real before.

No, she reminded herself, reality had been repetitive engagements and banal conversation with the pleasantly unenthused of Society, and with fortune-hunters in gentleman's attire looking to net a quick profit from the latest technological craze. She'd played the role well enough, but now that an alternative presented itself…

Ellen quickly climbed aboard, her eyes fixed forward.


	2. Chapter 1

The clouds were hazy, and Ellen dreamed of thunderstorms.

The _Zephyr_, on its first voyage out of Caladon, drifted unceremoniously through the air currents above the Stonewall mountains. An hour earlier the young lady had taken it on herself to explore the craft, distracting herself for a time with a mouse on the deck (were the other travelers, she mused, aware of what was scuttering about their fine floating establishment?) and a not-entirely-perfected shielding charm. Where a more accomplished mage in her position might have continued to stroll leisurely about the ship, politely engaging other passengers along the way, Ellen managed only a handful of casts before a dizzy spell nearly toppled her. Ruffled, she returned to her seat below and dozed off soon after.

Her sleep was thick, roused only with the scrambling and shouts of nearby passengers and the futile pleas of airship crew for calm and order. Still came the sounds of thunder, and the horrid realization that the skies outside roiled not with storm but with smoke and gunfire. A blast connected port-side and the ship heaved, shattering windows and throwing several men from their feet. Through the windows behind the young woman glanced a matching pair of smaller craft mounted with arms, their coarse-looking pilots (orcs? No-even more brutish) driving hard into the side of the zeppelin.

Ellen was frozen. Any panic amid the screams and cries around her caught in her throat. By her accounting reality held a loose grip on the scene, replaced by a slow, overwrought drama. Another blast rocked the zeppelin, and someone shouted from behind a broken stairwell: she was going down, and fast.

In the blurred moments between descent and impact Ellen summoned only enough of her wits to cast her shield spell once more, bracing helplessly as the flame-scarred vessel plummeted from the fogged skies.

_ Smoke. Burning metal. Splintered wood._

Fragments and images flickered through her mind as conscious awareness tried to surface.

_ Shattered glass. Flames. Cries for..._

"Help…"

As Ellen regained her senses the sound came into focus. The plea was strained but clear, and came from a pile of rubble not far from where she lay half-covered in scattered debris.

"Help me...please…"

With effort Ellen clambered through the piles of wreckage around her. Clumsily making her way to the trapped victim, her vision still hazy, she identified the source of the cries pinned beneath sheets of burned metal. She nearly yelped as she hoisted away the heavy scraps. A quick glance revealed the swelling in her wrist; a minor concern now, but a painful one.

The figure beneath the rubble, badly bruised where deep cuts and gashes had not already marked his features, tilted his head to acknowledge her. "Thank you, my friend".

Ellen trembled, her voice at a near-whisper. "Gods...". The badly-injured man was by appearance a gnome, one who by his gaunt features and thinning hair had already been in sickly condition before taking a step aboard the zeppelin. Behind them a pair of howls sounded from the nearby hills, turning the young mage-apprentice's blood colder. "A-all right, sir, just hold on, I think I can try to-"

The gnome shook his head, soberly acknowledging it was too late for such things. "I haven't got much time".

"No, no, please, just let me-"

But the man was emphatic. "You must find the boy".

"Wh-wha? I'm afraid I don't-"

"Find the boy," the gnome insisted, "and give him back his ring". With this he placed the item in her hand, which still fought to remain steady. "He will know what needs to be done".

Ellen opened her mouth for the inevitable string of questions, but stopped abruptly as a coughing fit wracked the man's entire frame. Unable to speak she leaned in closer.

"Now listen...listen to me," he continued. "we had to do it. He did unspeakable things to us-we-we had no choice but do as he said. There are-" The gnome took a shallow, labored breath and went on, "so few of us left, but the work is almost finished, and then...the evil...you can't imagine…"

Ellen's heart rate picked up further, her own breath growing thinner even as the gnome drew his with greater and greater effort. "Sir-please-what-"

"He's coming back to destroy everything," he went on, a pained look as his eyes set directly on hers. "Everything...and everyone...please, just find the boy!". He coughed once more. "Tell him that I escaped, and came back to warn...he will know what to do…".

The reality that these were the man's final moments struck full-forced as his expression turned distant, his little remaining strength giving way. Ellen blinked back the unwelcome tear.  
"You, my friend," he quietly pleaded, his gaze turned somewhere she couldn't see, "it's...all...up...to you".

Ellen shook as the last breath left him. "No, no...sir, please...no…". A torrent of garbled thoughts and images ran through her mind, none of them recognizable. Her limbs suddenly felt heavy-too much so to budge. The shock broke only at the sound of fast approaching footsteps behind her.

Through the smoke she could only make out a silhouette, one of a figure intent with purpose and heading directly toward her. She grabbed the nearest piece of twisted piece of metal and scrambled to her feet, raising it awkwardly above her head and waiting, heart pounding violently, as the stranger drew closer.

* * *

The robed figure approaching through the clearing smoke stopped, as though startled, a few feet from the young woman and ill-fated gnome. The stranger brushed back the hood of his robe, revealing a man perhaps a few years older than Ellen and (in her hasty estimation) in need of a shave and a decent night's rest.

The man stared open-jawed for a moment before breathing a word. The scene could have been almost comical as the two stood frozen, save for the the scattered wreckage and all-too-visceral evidence of casualties surrounding them.

"I can't believe it!"

When he finally spoke he did so excitably-more so as he went on-but clearly. "I mean, you...and the zeppelin...and the fire! And the altar says that…" he looked off to the side, apparently running some calculation through his mind, then jerked his head back toward a saucer-eyed Ellen. "Do you have any idea what all of this means?!"  
Ellen furrowed her brow but otherwise didn't budge. "_Begyourpardon_?"

"You speak!" The robed man nearly jumped but collected himself, enough at least to acknowledge her with an awkward forced smile. "I-I mean, of course you speak. What am I, a blathering idiot? Wait-" A louder howl sounded from the nearby hills, and then a second, as the man patted the sides of his robes. "What-what did you say? Maybe I should be writing all of this down…".

Ellen blinked.

"I...am at a loss here…". Unable to find what he sought, and apparently frustrated for it, the man wrung his hands while his words ran together. "I-I don't quite know what to do, uh...I mean, you are the...oh, of course you are! I mean, you do know who you are, right?".

"I-"

"Of course you do". Another wolf joined the high-pitched chorus-Ellen shivered-and the robed stranger went on,

"what sort of brainless, half-baked question is that for the, uh...what do you call yourself?"

"I-my-" Ellen stammered before blurting out, "sir, are you quite all right?".

She immediately scolded herself. That hadn't meant to come out _quite _so bluntly.

If the man took offense, however, he gave no indication. "Please, forgive me...I'm making a bloody mess of this whole affair". He straightened his bearing, punctuating his next thought with a deep breath. "My name is Virgil, madam, and I'm new to the Panarii religion-er, your religion-"

"My-"

"Oh, wait!" Virgil brushed off the ground and knelt in front of her, and Ellen's eyes bulged even more. "I, uh, hereby dedicate-no, commit my life to the Living One. I, Virgil, am at your service, madam".

Ellen cleared her throat loudly and dropped the twisted metal pipe. Her words came out in frantic gasps. "Ahem, ah-Virgil-make no mistake, I'm deeply flattered, but...I do think you have me confused with someone else".  
Virgil hastened to his feet. "Yes, yes, of course you're not really him, just his reincarnation! I mean…" he eyed her sheepishly, almost embarrassed, "that is the case, right? I have to admit, I'm no expert in elven philosophy, er, prophesy...bloody confusing, you know, all those thees, thous…" he laughed nervously. "Not-not that it's not interesting, em…".

"Virgil," Ellen sighed, an entreaty to some sort of sense.

"Yes, right! Uh, just give me a moment here". He paused, collecting his thoughts. "You see, the Panarii-that's the religion that was formed around the things that he said-I mean, that you said-oh, forget it. Let's start at the beginning. Or this beginning, since there is a lot more that came before this".

Ellen's expression went flat. "Yes, let's".

"You," Virgil nodded at her, "are the reincarnation of a powerful elf, who the Panarii worship, and whose name is...uh…".

Ellen waited.

"Right. Yes, the name. Uh...wait! I remember something: it is written in the scriptures. 'The Living One will live again on wings of fire!'". Virgil seemed pleased with himself for the recollection, but then frowned. "No, wait-I think it says, 'reborn on wings of fire!'" He huffed, for the moment giving up on the effort. "Oh, blood and ashes! Why do elves always have to be so damn cryptic?".

Another pair of wolf cries sent a chill straight down to her toes. "All right," she said, affecting an effort at patience. "I-I really have no idea about any of this. All I know is that a short time ago I and a number of others were floating blissfully above the clouds in a solidly intact vessel, and an even shorter while ago I found myself crawling from the wreck of that same vessel along with an injured gnome who, in his dying breath, gifted me with a ring to be returned at earliest convenience to 'the boy' and a dire warning of 'the evil' coming to destroy everything". Ellen took a breath. "I don't suppose there's a note in the scriptures about any of that?".

She had to give him a measure of credit-he _was _trying to be helpful. "I don't know about the ring," he said, "but this business about the evil one returning...as I've said, I don't know a whole lot about the Panarii prophecies, but I _think _you were supposed to return and fight someone evil". Ellen arched an eyebrow.

"Bloody hell," Virgil muttered. "I should know more of this".

Ellen gave a humorless laugh. "Right. Virgil. Clearly you're a bright-erm, well-read—sort. Certainly you've guessed that fighting...evil...someones…" she gestured to her person, in particular the singed traveling gown and dearth of violent implements, "is not my typical element. You really are are quite certain that I am this, em, evil...fighting...elf?".

"You're not actually him," Virgil countered, "just the...embodiment of his...spiritual essence, or something like-" he shook his head, abandoning the line of thought. "Look, I understand this whole thing sounds ridiculous, especially with you being human-and female besides-"

"That, actually, I had come to terms with".

"No, I don't mean-" Virgil sighed. "I just-I know how this all must sound to you. After seeing what I just did, I don't know what to believe myself. Believe me," he spoke more calmly, "I'm no saint, friend. A week ago I would have laughed at all this. But now, I just don't know".

The smoke was dissipating more quickly now, though tiny fires still burned among the splinters and boards strewn about. The clearing skies revealed the approaching dusk, as did the chill in the winds. In the corner of her vision Ellen swore a pair of narrow eyes glistened from the shadows, though she didn't dare turn to look.

"Please," Virgil continued, "just let me accompany you to my mentor, elder Joachim. He can explain all this better than I can".

Another howl and Ellen gasped audibly, taking a step closer to her visitor. "Y-yes...erm, under the circumstances, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to drop by for a chat".

Virgil relaxed. With a hand indicating the direction he went on, "the path out of here leading down to Shrouded Hills is down to the southeast. We'll stop by the Panarii shrine on the way out...see if it makes any of this more clear". Looking around the bulk of the wreckage he added, "we should look for any other survivors before we leave, though. Don't you think?"

"I…" Ellen peered through the mangled debris, straining for signs of life. She fought to temper a sick feeling. "I have my doubts, but yes".

For the first time the faces and identities of the fallen travelers, though in some cases contorted and burned, came into painful focus as the two searched. The half-orc hopeful for a way to finally scrape together a life for his family...the bride-to-be awaiting a train station reunion with her fiancé...the magically-inclined young aristocrat not unlike Ellen herself, seeking excitement and a fresh beginning...

Someone's brother, someone's daughter, someone's beloved.

"Madam?"

Ellen shook herself from her thoughts, aware of Virgil's look of worry. "I'm sorry. Let's keep going".

He nodded and motioned her forward, a steadying hand on her back while they crept around a pile of splintering beams. "I think that you might be right. I haven't seen any…" his words trailed off, needing no explanation.

"No," Ellen agreed, the reality settling on her like a sick haze. _Just me_.

Her eyes wandered the sheltered valley one last time, hoping to catch some small trace of movement, of breath, any sign of survival. No such sign presented itself.

But there was something else.

Virgil quickly turned to follow as Ellen strode toward a pocket in the low hills some distance from the crash. Glancing over her shoulder he identified what had caught her eye: one of the small flying craft responsible for the attack, its oafish pilot still caught among what remained of the machine. "What is-madam!"

Ellen turned on a heel, only to find herself locking eyes with a starved but determined creature baring a full set of teeth. She sprang back clumsily while Virgil took a hard swing at the wolf with his staff. The blow hadn't killed it but had notably attracted its attention; without thinking Ellen once more fired her shielding spell at her momentarily bewildered companion. His surprise at the glowing disc that had appeared at her command faded as the animal resumed its attacks, and with a well-aimed stroke he knocked the wolf off-balance. Ellen picked up a split piece of the nearby wreck and stumbled with it toward the creature, finishing off the wolf with an awkward blow to the skull.

"What in gods'..." Virgil blinked at her choice of implement. Ellen only shrugged—swallowing her discomfort at ending the creature's existence—and then stumbled backward as another wave of dizziness washed over her. Somewhat flustered, she extinguished the shield spell as Virgil helped her to her feet.

"Thank you," she managed between breaths.

"Of course". He checked that his new charge was uninjured, then remarked, "I hadn't any idea you were practiced in magic-although, being who you are, I guess I should ha-"

"It's a...work in progress," Ellen said, still catching her breath. "Don't ask me to perform at children's parties just yet". She nodded back toward the crashed machine, and Virgil leaned in for a closer look.

"What, exactly, is this? It seems a strange flying device, but much smaller than the blimp...I've never seen anything like it…"

"I think it was one of the machines that attacked us," Ellen replied. "Almost certain of it, in fact".

"And isn't that an ogre among the wreckage? It seems very unlikely that an ogre would have the intelligence to fly such a complex device".

"They didn't, as such…" Ellen gestured to the battered pilot, barely recognizable after having destroyed himself in the crash. Standing out among the remains, however, a gold medallion still hung around the ogre's neck bearing an odd symbol of an eye within a six-pointed star.

Virgil noticed the same. "Do you see that strange amulet he's wearing? And that symbol on its face...I don't recognize it. Do you?".

"No," Ellen replied, tentatively lifting the amulet from its wearer. She felt uneasy keeping it anywhere on her person, but had no other tangible clue to the origin of the attacks. She dropped it into what was left of her satchel next to the ring.

"Something isn't quite right about all this," Virgil said, his eyes puzzling. "I don't remember the, uh...scriptures talking about flying ogres and the like". (_Can't imagine_, Ellen muttered inaudibly). "We'd better get to Shrouded Hills and find Elder Joachim as soon as possible".

"Yes," Ellen said weakly. "That sounds like a wise idea".

"And be careful," he added, nodding at the slain beast just a few feet away. "These wolves are none too friendly".

She swallowed-lesson learned-and followed him cautiously toward the path leading out of the valley. Stopping twice to fend off the local wildlife, the pair eventually made their way around the crashed zeppelin and toward the aged stone shrine, now overgrown with foliage and crowning the path leading through the mountains.

The words imprinted were nevertheless crisp as Virgil read them aloud. "There...the altar should clear things up for us a bit. Let's see… 'And the spirit of Nasrudin shall be reborn on wings of fire in hills shrouded in fog, and fight the last battle with the evil one'".

"The evil one". Ellen blanched. "Who's the evil one?"

Virgil took a deep, thoughtful breath. "I'm sorry, but I don't know". With a chuckle he added, "I guess we'd better find out, considering you're supposed to fight him".

"Terribly glad you find this amusing".

"I'm sorry," he said, frowning. "I know this is all a bit much considering what you've just been through. Let's just get to Shrouded Hills".

"Right". She secured the torn satchel over her shoulder-its only recognizable contents now a ring of unclear possession and a medallion worn by a an unidentified assailant-and started down the path alongside her determined guide. Caught for a short while in her own thoughts-muddled though they were-she stopped short of tripping as another stranger in dark robes approached.

"Hold there," a low male voice announced. "What are you doing up here?".

"I might ask you the same question," Ellen said without thinking.

Virgil cleared his throat, then leaned in with a whisper. "I mean no disrespect, em, madam, but I don't trust this bastard one bit. Bloody convenient he happened to show up here just now, don't you think? Oh-" he winced. "Excuse my language, madam".

Ellen nodded slowly. "All right...I'm open to suggestions…".

Virgil straightened. "I've dealt with buggers-er, individuals-like this before. Perhaps you'll let me talk with him for a few minutes?" Ellen extended her hand in a "be my guest" gesture, and Virgil stepped forward. "Thank you, uh...I'll take care of this".

Turning to the encroaching figure he put on a bold face and demanded, "You there! What exactly are you doing up here? And what gives you the right to ask so many questions?"

Ellen raised an eyebrow, turning only slightly to hear the unidentified man's response.

"I'm just asking a simple question," he replied. "What are you two doing up here? I'm from Shrouded Hills, a village not far from here, and I witnessed this terrible accident. Is it such a crime to wonder what exactly is going on?".

Virgil was apparently having none of it. "Oh really?" He took a step closer. "Listen, I came from Shrouded Hills myself. It's at least a day's journey from here. There's no way you could have traveled here that fast". Staring the man directly in the eyes, his voice quiet and pointed, he leveled his accusation. "I think you're lying, sir".

Ellen tried to swallow again, but found her mouth dry. Hopefully the mysterious fellow hadn't noticed.

"I, uh, didn't come from Shrouded Hills just now," the man backpedaled. "I was camping not far from here, and saw the blaze. Why are you questioning me? I've done you no harm".

"No," Virgil said sharply, "I don't think you understand. I'm asking the questions here, and I don't like your answers. I'm going to ask you one more time: _Why _are you _here_?"

The man's show of pleasant concern disappeared. A cold gaze took its placed, fixed for uncomfortable moments on Ellen. "I don't recommend you speak to me that way, friend. I've just asked a question, and I'm expecting an answer". As his eyes passed between Ellen and Virgil he went on, "We can make this simple, or more difficult".

"Oh, I think difficult is the best way, sir", Virgil flashed a thin smile. "I find that there's fewer questions afterwards. I'm ready to begin this _discussion _whenever you are". He clenched his fist to underscore the point. Ellen discreetly took a step backwards.

The man hesitated, eyes passing again between the two. "Perhaps this is a...discussion we'll have later, friend. I'm sure that this issue will be resolved in no time". With a searing look at Ellen he nodded. "Good day to you, madam".  
"Yes, well, cheers". She gave a small wave, then a questioning glance at Virgil.

After the dark-robed man was well out of sight Virgil paled. "That-that was close".

"You scared him off, didn't you?"

"That man very well could have killed us both," he stated. "Believe me, I've...uh...seen his kind before".

Ellen stared down the path where the stranger had made his exit. "Perhaps prodding him then was not the wisest choice?"

"It was all bluster!" Virgil explained. "I'm no bloody warrior, but sometimes you have to be able to act the part. You learn such things on the.." he stopped. "Well, it's just something I've learned. Fear is a powerful weapon". He looked back toward her with genuine concern. "Something is very wrong here. I think we'd best get out of here as soon as possible".

Exhausted and nerves unsettled, Ellen nodded ahead, and the two began down the path toward the nearby town. "I could not agree more".


	3. Chapter 2

The landscape under mottled moonlight shifted and blurred through a veil of sparks, the view dimming with each cloud that passed overhead. At intervals some small creature would flit across the darkened horizon, or a mild breeze would carry a swirl of leaves across the moonscape. Ellen's gaze focused on each movement through the campfire's flames, though none registered more than faintly in her thoughts.

The skies had darkened not long after Virgil and Ellen had cleared the mountains surrounding the crashed ship. With a distance still between them and Shrouded Hills the former suggested a night's rest, and Ellen offered little objection. A small bag of supplies would tide them for the evening.

A thick cloud had doused the moon's light when a hand on Ellen's shoulder broke her reverie.

"My apologies, Madam," Virgil said, and the young woman gave a wearied smile in reply. Stepping back he asked, somewhat hesitant, "Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?".

"I'm well, thank you". She hadn't meant it to be dismissive, but supposed her tone came through as such. In truth conversation took an effort she wasn't sure she could muster.

Regardless she smiled politely once more as her companion settled beside the fire. "We, ah, should reach Shrouded Hills by afternoon tomorrow. In the meantime I know it isn't the most comfortable arrangement, but once we get to town and meet with Elder Joachim we should be able to rest a little easier. I'm sorry, madam, I would have been a little better prepared if I'd known you were-" he stopped. "Oh, blast! Madam, I apologize-".

"What?" Ellen perked, jarred by the sudden change of tone. "What is it?"

"It's just that-in all of the, er, excitement...that is, everything that happened all at once, I mean...I don't believe I ever actually asked your name. I mean, your-".

"Virgil," she said gently, visibly relieved that his talk had-for now-turned from elven prophecies, "It's Ellen".

His nerves seemed to calm as well. "Ellen. Right, that should be a little easier than 'Madam Living One' or 'Esteemed Living One' or….em, you know, that sort of thing...heh, I assume you don't mind, of course".

Ellen forced a weak laugh. With a twinge of guilt-really, how did one forget one's own introduction?-she inched closer to the fire, drawing a sharp breath at the spiking pain in her wrist. "I...did want to thank you, by the way. For the help. I, em, didn't fancy narrowly surviving the crash only to become some wild creature's afternoon tea".

"Oh, it's no trouble, madam. Ellen". He tried to smile reassuringly. "I'm not the best protector you might ask for, but I can at least get you to Joachim. He'll be able to tell us what to do from there".

"Yes...right". Ellen rested her hand on her torn bag, thoughts flashing to the gnome who had charged her with a ring and the ogre who had unwittingly lent her a strange medallion. Two questions left far too wide open. "There's also something else I need to do," she remarked, half to her travelling companion and half in self-reflection. As she spoke she fumbled through the bag for the gnome's-no, the unidentified boy's-ring, then held it up and turned it in her fingers, running them over its surface for any irregularities that might point to its origins. Holding it near the fire she could read the initials "G.B." in bold imprint, but little else.

"The ring," Virgil recalled. "What were you saying about it? I admit, with all the talk of the gnome and the evil one and, well, everything else, it all sort of…blurred. You said the gnome gave you the ring before he...?".

She nodded. "And if I understand our dearly departed friend correctly, something very, very untoward is going to happen unless this ring is returned to 'the boy'. He was...vague on the details". She held it up to the firelight again. "I did find a pair of initials-presumably the owner's. I don't suppose 'G.B.' rings a familiar note?".

"No, I'm sorry," Virgil said. "May I see it?".

She handed the ring over to Virgil, who in turn held it at eye level hoping to uncover some unusual or telling mark . "There's something else written on the inside-did you happen to see?".

"No...I missed that," Ellen replied. "What does it say?".

"Hm. I can't quite make it out. Not in this light, at least". He squinted in one last attempt to read the lettering. "There's a dealer in Shrouded Hills who might be able to recognize it, though. You might want to ask him when we get there-see if he can point us in the right direction".

At least it was a place to begin. "It's worth the try".

Virgil passed the ring back to her but paused, almost distracted, before dropping it in her hand. "Is there something-" Ellen started, then realized what had caught his attention. "Oh". Her hand instinctively went to her injured wrist, as though the sprain might be offset by a firm grasp. "I suppose I must have landed on it during the crash".

"Do you mind if I…?". At his indication Ellen warily extended her arm, which he grasped delicately with both hands. "Hm. It's not broken, so I think I can...give me just a minute, madam".

Before she could further inquire what exactly he had in mind, he raised a hand just above the injured spot, focusing his concentration on the same. Ellen felt a surge of magic run up her forearm, then an unpleasant twist as it reached its target. At once she let out a small yip. Virgil twitched, muttering a quick "Sorry, madam", but maintained his concentration on the spot until he seemed satisfied his work was complete.

"There—that should be a little better," he said as she withdrew her arm, running her other hand over the spot where only a mild ache and stiffness remained. "At least until tomorrow. Joachim or the doctor in Shrouded Hills should be able to finish healing it properly".

_Magical_ healing. Of course. Mentally she chided herself for not thinking of it earlier, though to be fair she had little confidence in her ability to heal more than a skinned knee or black eye. Virgil, on the other hand…

"For someone impressed by a display of magic," Ellen remarked with a trace of levity, "you didn't mention the healing talents".

He chuckled, almost embarrassed. "I wouldn't call them talents, really. I'm as new to all this as you are. But, yes. I've managed to learn a few things from the Panarii".

"I see". Her head instantly swam with fragmented thoughts of continuing her own magical studies once all of this had passed. She shook them out of her mind; there were far more pressing matters now. "In an any case, my thanks again". Holding up the hand she added, "Much better".

That seemed to put him more at ease, and as the flames started to die down the conversation lulled to the odd remark on the surroundings. At length Virgil-somewhat apologetically at forgetting to d0 so earlier-offered Ellen his shabby bedroll, insisting that he preferred to stay awake and on watch. The idea didn't settle entirely well with her; the fellow looked like he'd barely slept in days.

But perhaps there was a good reason for that.

She held back her protest, thanking him once more and laying into an uncertain rest. The worries came howling as as she knew they would; quickly she batted them aside with the recognition that nothing more could be done to address them tonight. With luck this elder Virgil spoke of would have some insight on what to do or where to go from here. And perhaps gently explain to his pupil that, magical aspirations or no, she herself was alas no reincarnated elven hero. In any case conjecture was of little use until they knew more. In her mind she pictured a candle softly blown out, signaling her turbulent thoughts that it was time to lie still for now.

The last thing she recalled that night was setting a hand against the cool grass, as though the ground beneath might tether her to something certain and unfailing.

She awoke for the third time as dawn began to peek from behind the nearby mountains. Sleep had come quickly, but the inevitable dreams that echoed the waking nightmare of the day prior had kept it from lingering. Virgil had on each occasion jumped as though nursing a patient who might at any moment go into fits; Ellen, uneasy at the thought of constant monitoring, assured him the concern was appreciated but unnecessary.

It was she who had suggested they begin again for Shrouded Hills as dawn arrived that morning. Certainly the both of them would rest easier with a proper town surrounding them, away from the exposed wilds.

Travel was slow and in large part quiet, each of them preoccupied by their own troublings, but by mid-afternoon the uneven ground gave way to a dirt path leading to a cluster of aged wooden buildings. A closer approach revealed a ring of dusty shops that enclosed an airy courtyard paved in rough dirt, while a wider circle of weathered farmhouses in various states of disrepair surrounded a small web of pathways tramped through the grass.

"So, ah, I suppose this must be Shrouded Hills," Ellen remarked, straining to mask her reaction to the rather liberal use of the word "town". "Quite, erm, what's the word—charming, isn't it?".

"From what the Elder Joachim told me, it's seen better times," he replied. "There's an old Panarii temple here, and Joachim says that it was once a very important place to the Panarii. Beyond that it's a simple mining town, though I haven't seen much of that either, come to think of it". He turned to her with a small shrug. "I don't know much else about the place".

"I gather, then, that you aren't from here".

The assertion seemed to throw him momentarily. "No, no…we only just arrived the day before yesterday. Oh, and speaking of that,"—he pointed to one of the more prominent buildings as they walked—"Elder Joachim is staying at the inn next to the bank. I think we should probably try and see him first, maybe get him to take a look at that arm, and then go about finding the owner of that ring".

Feeling terribly out of place Ellen agreed, following close behind.

Just inside the inn's rough-seated doors its scarce patrons, most of whom hovered like summer flies about the bar, paid little mind to the two strangers who entered. Wasting no time on pleasantries, Virgil led the two of them down the hall to Joachim's lodgings.

A polite knock elicited no answer. A more forceful one nudged the door open, at which point Virgil cautiously pushed it forward and stepped inside. The stench that met them nearly staggered them both; with a gasp the Panarii acolyte exclaimed, "Good god! What's happened here?".

In place of the elder Virgil had been so eager to reach, two burned and contorted bodies festered on the ground, each with an amulet bearing the same mark as that of the ogre pilot. In spite of all efforts at composure Ellen's mind flickered back to the grisly scene of just a day past, and only a quick brace against the wall allowed her to remain on her feet. "D-do you know these fellows?".

He shook his head, eyes agape. "I've never seen them before".

Gathering her wits as best she could, Ellen tentatively stood upright once more. "We should probably inform someone of this".

He nodded. "The constable was standing right outside the inn when we entered. I don't see how he wouldn't have known about what's happened here, but I suppose…if you'll just wait—" . He stopped short as Ellen's face turned a wholly unnatural shade. "Er, no, perhaps you ought to go for the constable while I look around for anything that might explain this". He added, "But please be careful, madam".

"That sounds a fine plan". She quickly ducked outside, still reeling. A moment to regain her bearings and she hurried through the corridor, keeping as fast a stride as discretion would allow.

If the constable had been nearby, he had apparently lost interest in the spot within scant minutes. Hoping not to appear too frantic Ellen peered around, making for the nearest building when a voice from behind stopped her cold.

"Excuse me!"

Ellen turned to face a tidily dressed gnome, his hand raised in an effort to gather her attention. "I'm sorry," she said with all the patience she could muster, "was there something you wanted?".

He took a step closer, eagerness in his face. "I couldn't help but notice that you're new here in town. I've heard about the IFS Zephyr…were you on the blimp when it crashed?".

_Unbelievable_. A mysterious hooded figure with all appearance of malicious intent…two amulet-bearing corpses where Virgil's mentor ought to have been…and now a fellow with claims to knowledge of the crash when the only two witnesses had arrived in town mere moments earlier.

"I'm sorry, sir," Ellen said hastily. "I'm afraid I have business I need to attend to".

"Please, madam!" the gnome implored, lightly grabbing her by the elbow. "I must know! Were you on that blimp or not? I have a very good reason for wanting to know!".

"Doubtless you do". Ellen jerked her arm away. "Excuse me, please".

"Humph!". The gnome folded his arms, an uncomfortably familiar stare piercing her eyes. "No need to be rude, madam. I suppose you'll be staying here in Shrouded Hills. I'm sure we'll be seeing one another again".

She replied only with a hard stare of her own, then dashed toward the nearby bank. The lump in her throat was all the confirmation she needed that it would be unwise to linger in this isolated backwater village.

But where to go from here?


	4. Chapter 3

After a conversation with the town constable left Ellen harboring a dismal impression of the local law, she met Virgil in the hall outside what had been the elder Joachim's room, walking briskly toward the entrance and clutching a piece of folded paper. Relief showed in his face as he spotted her approach.

"There you are, madam". He motioned her over. "I think you'd better come and see this". He ducked into an empty room, holding the door just wide enough for her to follow and closing it behind them. By the scraps on the table and the ashes spilling out of the fireplace, the previous guest had departed very recently, or not at all—given recent events, Ellen hoped the conversation would be a quick one.

Virgil carefully unfolded the paper in his hand. "Sorry to hurry you along, but it seems Joachim has discovered something. Those individuals we found seem to be part of some larger plot-a plot against _you_".

"Me". Shaking her head and almost laughing, Ellen skimmed the note as Virgil offered it for her perusal. "There must be a drought of fashionable targets".

Joachim's note did little to ease her mind. The unnerved feeling heightened as she read further:

_Virgil-_

_I assume you are not alone. As you can see, there are people in Shrouded Hills looking for me. Luckily for me, these fellows were easily dispatched. Do not speak with anyone about the zeppelin crash, or your new companion's involvement with it. When you are able to make your way to Tarant, check the telegram office there. I will leave a message telling you where to contact me._

_Joachim_

There was something droll in that Joachim's trail led to her original destination, but it wasn't the mention of Tarant that had caught her attention. Ellen scanned the letter once more in case she'd misread. "Crash…new companion's…how did he...Virgil, who exactly _is_ this Joachim?".

Virgil hedged a moment before answering. "He is…well…someone who helped me out when I needed it. I met him in a small village, at a Panarii temple. I was, uh…a bit down on my luck". A pained look crossed his face for a split second before he shook it away. "He showed me that you don't always have to take what life gives you…that there's always a better path, and that it's always your choice to travel it…".

There was a long pause, but not a concluding one. Sensing he had something more to add, Ellen encouraged him with a quiet "Go on".

Apparently a mistake. "I'd rather not talk about it any more. But Joachim is a great man, well-versed in the ways of the Panarii, and also in the ways of the world. If he thinks we're in trouble, then we are. Let's get out of here, and get to Tarant".

_Never mind Joachim…who are you, really_? Curiosity and decorum made a poor match, and Ellen had no intention of pressing the subject. Nonetheless it was one more puzzle to stir over.

"So..." Ellen swallowed, quite aware that Virgil's mind had for the moment drifted elsewhere, and that he probably wasn't taking in a word. "I'll assume you know the way there…and...erm, right".

He had already turned the corner and was halfway down the hall before remembering to check that the young woman was following. He turned abruptly and waited with a look of guilt, but without comment.

The heated words from the bar near the entrance answered, if unfavorably, the question of a hasty exit from town. Virgil stopped near the door as Ellen lingered, feigning interest in a yellowed newspaper on a windowsill while keeping one ear to the conversation.

"Oh I'd-hic!-get to gettin' outta here too, but I -hic!-don't wanna start any trouble with them boys on the bridge either". Must have been the drunken half-ogre. Despite his protests he'd seemed quite content to remain slouched in his barstool.

"Damn useless lawman". A rowdier voice.

"Blasted thieves-one bridge outta town-".

"Been campin' the place all night-askin' for a fortune to get 'crost-gonna be holed up this lil' spit of a town-spineless constable, won't lift a hair-".

Ellen gave a subtle glance to Virgil and a nod toward the door. He nodded in return, holding it open as they both slipped outside.

"So is it true?" she asked after the door had swung shut behind them. "The only way out of Shrouded Hills is through...one bridge?".

"I'm afraid so," he said as they rounded the corner onto the worn grassy path, "unless you're going back the way we came. There's rivers and mountains on all sides otherwise. And it sounds like that bridge has got some shady characters holding it right now". Ellen followed his eyes toward the river to the east.

Their short jaunt down the path had afforded a clear enough view of the interlopers-a wiry, animated gentleman flanked by two lumbering half-ogres-and little mystery as to which of the trio had spearheaded the effort.

"So, it's as the barfly social club described". She glanced behind them toward the town constable, who still paced near the center of the courtyard. "And I see our stalwart defender of the peace is taking great pains to remedy this situation".

"The constable". Virgil's eyes perked. "Did you-that is, were you able to speak with him about those men in the inn?".

Ellen drew a breath through her teeth. "By his own accounting, he _prefers_," she replied, boldly enunciating each word, "not to get involved in such things".

"He- ". Virgil responded with a mild exasperation that matched hers, but held back any biting commentary. He took a moment to steady himself. "All right. I suppose this happens quite a lot here-they'll probably be gone in a few days, once they realize there's not much profit to be made from these people. Then we'll just have to make sure we leave as soon as we can".

Frustrating, Ellen supposed, but a fair assumption; the occasional criminal occupation was something one most likely learned to tolerate when living in a remote village governed by a worm-spined lawman. "So then, we stay for now".

"I don't see that we have any other choice," he replied. "We will have to be careful, madam-I don't think those men who were after Joachim were working alone. But I still say it's safer here than going back into the open wilds, or trying to face armed criminals head-on".

Ellen agreed, however apprehensively. Meanwhile a growing malaise apart from the immediate threat of shadowy attackers thickened with the change of plans.

_He's coming back to destroy everything…please, just find the boy..._

The old gnome's warning had lingered in her thoughts, put aside to simmer quietly while the events awaiting them in Shrouded Hills demanded attention. Now the recollection had surfaced once more, along with a tightness of nerves at the thought of this unanticipated delay.

Perhaps the gnome had exaggerated in the delirium of his final moments. But was it worth the risk to assume as much? And even if the coming storm were not quite so grandiose as an 'unimaginable evil, come to destroy everything'...given the fate of the Zephyr, did it render the situation any less urgent?

"So..." she swallowed. "What now, then?". The answer concerned her less than did filling the silence while her disarrayed thoughts sorted themselves. Routine and familiarity made it easy to improvise, and of the two Corville girls Ellen especially had made a pastime of evading, outwitting, and otherwise weathering the less sufferable of the family's frequent social callers.

The circumstance was anything but familiar or routine.

Virgil nonetheless answered after only a moment's hesitation. "Well, since we can't do anything about finding the elder Joachim just yet, maybe there's something we can find out about that ring".

Gods bless him, he hadn't forgotten. Ellen took a quiet breath as the frantic dust settled in her vision. "Right...right. Yes, that would be wise". She snapped her head back toward him. "You mentioned a dealer-someone who could identify the markings?".

Virgil pointed across the courtyard to a large building, where an ornate polished sign marking the entrance hung in sharp contrast to the peeling wooden walls that almost threatened to separate. A wooden bench had been strategically placed over a split at the base of the wall. "That's the shop. The owner is named Ristezze, and if you believe him, he's been all over Arcanum collecting all sorts of...things. If anyone in Shrouded Hills would know what those engravings mean, it would be him".

"In that case, I suppose we ought to...".

_Do not speak with anyone about the zeppelin crash, or your new companion's involvement..."_

Ellen stopped mid-stride and mid-sentence. "Virgil..." she lowered her voice, eyes darting both ways for too-interested passersby. "Where might one have acquired this piece of jewelry?".

Virgil looked at her quizically. "Madam? I thought-".

"I have an idea". She spun a finger absently as a vague plan solidified. "Do you know what sort of fellow this Ristezze is?".

He shrugged. "Eccentric, a little bit pompous...I'm not sure what else you're looking for?".

"That, that exactly. Let me think for just a moment". She smoothed her dress and hair, resigned that little could be done for her disheveled appearance right now. She would have to work around that. "I fear that alluding to its prior owner may not be in our best interests. It might be more prudent to obscure that information".

The look of confusion shifted to one of recognition. "I see what you mean. So, ah, what did you have in mind?".

She considered the choice of words for a moment, then smiled faintly. "A credible tale, no more. As soon as one emerges".

The shop appeared smaller on the inside than the building's exterior would have suggested, and lined from top to bottom with dusty shelves scattered with magical trinkets or mechanical devices. No mistaking which was which; the stores of coiled wiring, electrical solutions, and engine parts lay in opposite corners from those of spelled scrolls and enchanted curios.

Ellen made a show of lightly bracing against the back wall, eyes taking in the room with a mixture of relief and approval even as they drooped with exhaustion. "Ah, thank goodness. Much more fitting".

The gentleman behind the far counter set down the silver vase and a polishing cloth in his hands, stepping into the flickering electric lamplight. "Ahem...good day, madam! What can Ristezze do for you?".

She met the shopkeeper's inquiry with exaggerated delight, tempered with the weight of sleeplessness and disquietude. "Ah, Mister Ristezze. You are the proprietor of this establishment, yes?".

The man clapped, and with a slight bow replied, "This I am! Ristezze, importer of fine goods and rarities from all over the world. Nowhere will you find a more incredible assortment of fantastical oddities from the four corners of Arcanum and beyond! You're looking for something specific, yes?".

Ellen waved her approval, once toward the odd-spoken shop owner and then toward Virgil. "You were absolutely correct. Most fortunate". She gestured to Ristezze. "Indeed I am, good sir-of a sort. You see, I am a collector of antiques, curiosities, and what the, ah, common element might call _pretty things_. Now, I chanced upon a troupe of religious fellows traipsing about the back country on some sort of pilgrimage,"-she indicated her companion, who had pulled the hood of his robes down and was nodding in dutiful acknowledgement-"who were so kind as to let me accompany them in hopes that I might stumble on-well, on an establishment such as yours! It seems my dear companions did not disappoint".

"Ah, madam, no one just stumbles into Ristezze!". An air of showmanship had momentarily overtaken the fellow. "It's as you say-Ristezze always has something for everyone, no? Take a look".

Ellen beamed. "You are most gracious. May I...?" She motioned toward the stacks of shelves in both corners, and Ristezze enthusiastically assented, taking especial care to showcase the presumed "rare" items with price marks to match. The young mage half-listened as he babbled on about the travails of maintaining a collection both magical and technological, about the disruptive interactions between both and about "stuffy mages" and their strange methods of item enchantment.

She made a note that certain other information might best be omitted from this conversation.

Virgil meanwhile followed patiently, slightly bemused even. As Ellen pointed out particular trinkets that had struck her eye, he quietly cleared his throat and leaned in toward her. "Madam? You're quite sure you have money to settle for this?".

She waved a hand once more without looking back towared him. "Yes, yes, don't be silly. Here now, let me find my-" she reached into the satchel at her side, then stopped suddenly, her eyes frozen wide. "Oh, curse my foolishness...". She turned back to Virgil with a small pout as her fingers gingerly scooped the ring from the bag. "I must have left my coinpurse at the inn. Yes, now I recall...dear me".

Folding her hands around the ring she glanced toward the shopkeeper with a wince of embarrassment. "My apologies, Mister Ristezze. It seems I shall have to very briefly defer any purchase...although, while the subject has my attention and I have yours, might I be so bold as to summon forth your expertise?".

"You may ask, of course. How can Ristezze help you?".

Skirting past _Ristezze can explore the untapped potential of the pronoun_, Ellen replied, "Well, you see, in my travels I came upon a...similarly quaint village to this one, and by sheer fortune obtained this lovely piece"-she unfolded her hands to reveal the old gnome's ring-"for a scandalously low figure. Poor chap seemed to think it was some cheaply-produced bauble, but of course you and I know better". She winked, leaning in conspiratorily, then handed him the ring. "Would you kindly have a look? Clearly it belongs to a set that I'd like very much to obtain, but I'm afraid I know little about its origins".

"Interesting...hm...indeed yes. A finely made piece of jewelry. " Ristezze peered at the ring through a glass while holding it up to the light. "What exactly do you want to know?".

"Simply put," she replied, "I'd like to know where I might find another like it. How do you suppose it might have been crafted?".

He continued to scrutinize the piece. The dusty light from the windows briefly glinted off of the ring's outer inscription. "Ristezze would say that it is made out of silver. A fine grade as well...note the way it shines. Ristezze would also say it was made nowhere near Shrouded Hills...nothing of such quality could have come from this place...".

Now they were possibly inching toward an answer-"Where, then, would such silver be produced?".

Ristezze wrinkled his nose not unlike an impertinent toddler. "Definitely _not_ the Bessie Toone mine here in Shrouded Hills. Bessie Toone-hah! I spit on Bessie Toone and Shrouded Hills! The very idea of...".

-Or possibly not. "Ah, y-yes, your point is received. Then...oh, it's a small chance, but the initials on the outside...". She indicated the clearly printed letters catching the afternoon light through the window. "Does 'G.B.' bring anyone or anything to mind?".

"G.B.?". He set the ring down momentarily on the shelf beside him. "No one Ristezze knows. _Impossible_, in fact, that someone in _Shrouded Hills_ would own such a high quality piece of jewelry. More likely they'd melt it down and use it for nails...oh, the thought! How Ristezze has languished here, my friend...".

"Yes, of course, quite understandable". She made an effort not to clip her words, near concluding that this conversation was of little further use.

Virgil timidly spoke up behind her. "Madam, I seem to remember you mentioned another imprint inside of the ring...".

A quiet sigh of relief and Ellen quickly mouthed a thank you in his direction. "Ah, my forgetfulness! Yes indeed, Mister Ristezze, there is one more inscription on the inside. Very small, difficult to read properly. If you could perhaps-".

"Just a moment, my friend". He picked up the ring once more, holding it in his palm and tilting it just enough to read the printed words. "Oh yes, a very important piece of this puzzle. Ristezze has been very free with information, no?".

Blast it. She ought to have guessed. One last appeal to his puffed-up pride, she decided, though if the fellow was set on extracting a price he would not likely be swayed from it. "Oh, yes! You've been nothing but helpful...and _very_ knowledgeable!".  
He didn't flinch. "Ah, yes. Flattery will get you everywhere with Ristezze. But Ristezze is not so easily thwarted, my silver-tongued friend". As was expected. "Now, about what Ristezze might need in return...".

"Very well then". Ellen held out a hand for the ring, preparing to deem this avenue of inquiry closed. "What is it you want?".

Ristezze tented his fingers and strolled a few paces. "Ristezze is a collector of strange and wonderful things...perhaps there are a few objects you could add to Ristezze's collection?".

Ellen silently cursed the hole in her alibi. "My dear sir, please understand that I don't travel with my wares. And, regrettably, I fear I've not acquired anything on this particular journey that would likely be of interest to you". However sensible the explanation might have been, the words felt transparent and hollow.

"Oh, I would not think to steal the treasures of a fellow seeker of rare finds. But if you were to locate a camera, that technological wonder, or something of Bessie Toone's, Ristezze might tell you about who made your fine silver ring and where you might find them".

"And Bessie Toone is...?".

"Why, she was the owner of the old mine just north of town". Ristezze spoke as though perplexed that a stranger had not been prior equipped with this information. "The rumor is that one day she walked up to the mine, fired all of the workers, and disappeared into the caves. She was never seen again".

"And...you would like a keepsake from this woman to enrich your collection?". It would not have been her first assumption.

"She was an odd one, yes," he conceded. "But quite a legend in Shrouded Hills...and it seems that rural mythos and its associated paraphernalia are all the rage in Tarant these days. Ristezze saw an exhibit at H.T. Parnell's that you wouldn't believe...".

"-I see". Ellen interrupted him before the next soliloquy managed to commence. "In such case I shall see what I can find". She gave a small curtsey and turned toward Virgil, who with a near imperceptible shrug motioned toward the door, thanking the overdramatic dealer as the two excused themselves from the shop.

"The town of Shrouded Hills was built around the mine," Virgil explained as they wandered back toward the center of town. "It shouldn't be difficult to find something that this Bessie Toone once owned. Then we'll see if the strange old fellow is as good as his word".

She chuckled softly. "You doubt him?".

And in spite of himself Virgil grinned. "I know, it was all very convincing. But H.T. Parnell's...that 'exhibit' was probably some stitched-together 'monster hide' or some piece of 'ancient technology' made of broken wires and scrap metal. We should stop by the place while we're in Tarant, madam. I think you'd find it very entertaining".

Mentally cataloguing her guide's familiarity with the city-and her gratitude for such-Ellen acknowledged moreover that yes, this would be an amusing little excursion.

Assuming they ever did reach Tarant.


End file.
